I love Jean Prouvaire so much like. what a wild character. what a fantastic and weird character. I want to meet him. I love him. he plays the flute and grows weird plants and has a collection of creepy masks and he would love post-mortem photography and he talks so quietly as if he’s afraid of waking sleeping spirits but has this big booming opera singing voice and once a bird settled in his beard but he didn’t have the heart to dislodge it.
@pilferingapples asked how the bird got there.
Easy: it was the middle of the night. Jehan had spent a good part of it with Bahorel, like, hanging out, eating and smoking and talking and also trying a new interpretation of a pivotal scene in a popular play, with improvised costumes and all. They got hungry, Bahorel had brought bread, it was all good. But it was a summer night, see, and it was really warm and Bahorel is a human furnace, so Jehan stripped and opened the window above his bed and fell asleep like that.
there were still pieces of bread in his beard. who cares, right?
the bird that flew in through the window cared. It cared a lot.